


Flufftober 2018

by AviDragonLady



Series: Kinktober/Flufftober 2018 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AviDragonLady/pseuds/AviDragonLady
Summary: Prompt: Stars





	1. Chapter 1

A man stumbled down the side of the road, covered in dirt and who knew what else. His clothes were tattered; particularly the front of his shirt, the plaid cloth over his elbows, and the knees of his pants. He looked like he’d been mauled by a bear, but only his clothing was damaged. He stared blankly around him, as though the trauma of said attack had wiped everything from his mind except the shock of being alive.  
   As it happened, a car was on that very road, about to encounter the dazed man. As fast as it roared down the road, they could have passed him without seeing him. It would have been a tragedy if they had. The poor lad didn’t know where he was, or what brought him to that deserted stretch of asphalt.  
   The old car slowed when its driver saw him, pulled up alongside the staggering fellow.  
   “Hey buddy, you okay? This isn’t the best place to be wan-”  
   The driver stared at the young man, unable to believe what he was seeing. The car sped around him and screeched to a stop on the shoulder ahead of him. He didn’t seem to notice, even when the driver and another, taller man jumped out of the idling muscle car and ran toward him.  
   He stared at them blankly, until they said a name that made his head hurt and hugged him as though they were drowning, and he was a life raft. They said that name over and over, squeezing the daylights out of him.  
   He finally snapped out of it enough to push them away. They were reluctant to let him go, but in the end, they respected his wishes.  
   “Who are you, and why are you here?”  
   The older men looked at each other for a moment. “He wouldn’t remember us,” the taller one said. “We didn’t meet ‘til after…”  
   “Yeah, after…” The more stern-looking one looked about to throttle something, so the young man backed up a step.  
   “Sorry, Adam, I’m not mad at you.”  
   The lad covered his ears and hunkered down on the balls of his feet. “Stop saying that name!” he howled. “It hurts.”  
   Above his head, Sam and Dean exchanged a Look that said “well crap, this isn’t gonna go well.”  
   “O...okay, what do you want us to call you?” Sam asked, hunkered down a safe distance away.  
   Adam peeked through his arms, wide-eyed. “I don’t know.” He dropped to his knees in the dirt, staring at the limp hands on his knees.  
   “I don’t know who I am, where I am, or how I got here. I don’t even know where I _should_ be, besides ‘not here’.”  
   He lifted haunted eyes, and the boys knew the look well. They’d both been to Hell and back, and they’d both had that look in their eyes when they got topside.  
   “Well, we’ll figure out how you got here later. I think the first thing you need is food, a shower, and some new clothes. Will you let us help you get those things?” Sam held out one hand, not sure what his little brother would say. He remembered what the Cage was like, how nothing felt _real_ when you escaped it.  
   Adam recoiled. “I don’t know you,” he said. It sounded like a very small child.  
   Dean squatted next to Sam. “Lucky for you, we know you. I dunno what would’ve happened if anybody else found you.” He looked at Sam briefly. “Matter of fact, we’ve been looking for you for a long time.”  
   Adam scuttled backwards on hands and feet until he hit a tree.  
   Sam took two steps, then realized how it might seem to Adam. “We’re not going to hurt you. We _can’t_ hurt you. We’re your big brothers.”  
   Adam shook his head, eyes wide. “I don’t have any brothers.”  
   “Half brothers,” Dean said. “We have the same dad.”  
   Adam latched onto his mother, the only thing his subconscious remembered. “Where’s my mom?”  
   The boys looked at each other again. For some reason, that irritated him. “Look at me! Where’s my mom?”  
   Sam was better at breaking bad news, so Dean let him give it to the kid. He burst into tears, calling them liars and beating Sam’s chest when he tried to comfort their little brother. They knew he wasn’t really mad at either of them, so they stood there and took turns getting hit in the chest. Unlike him, they’d spent their lives in one battle or the other. One scrawny kid couldn’t hurt either of them.  
   When the first burst of his grief was spent, he let Sam carry him to the car. Knowing his mother was dead, he didn’t seem to care about being alive. They hadn’t counted on that in their plans to save him.  
   The problem was, neither of them had managed to actually do it. Who’d pulled him out of the cage? Did he have his soul?  
   When he fell asleep in the backseat, halfway to the Bunker, they asked the same question at the same time:  
   “Say, did you--”  
   “Did you find--”  
   They looked at each other as long as Dean could safely do, while driving.  
   “So it wasn’t you?” They asked in stereo.  
   Another brief look flashed between them.  
   “Awesome.”  
   “You’re not glad he’s out of the Cage?” Sam asked.  
   “Yeah, ‘course I am. I’m just worried about whatever had the juice to yank him upstairs.”  
   Sam twisted to look at their brother. He reached out with a silver coin and touched one exposed knee. Nothing.  
   “We did all those tests last time, remember?”  
   “Better test again before he goes in the Bunker,” Sam pointed out. Dean couldn’t argue with his logic.  
   He pulled in to the next gas station so Sam could get the rest of the things they needed. Adam slept right through the tests.  
   “How do we test for ghouls?” Dean asked over the roof of the car, before they got back in.  
   “Find the stuff to make… what was it Edgar called it? Vamptonite?”  
   “Edgar… That’s one bastard I’m glad is dead. Yeah, we can see about getting our hands on some. ‘Til then, I’m gonna be sleeping with one eye open.”  
   “Wait, would Cas know?” Sam asked.  
   “Huh… You’d think so.”  
   They got back in the car, relieved to have some sort of plan in place.

  
   When they got to the Bunker, Sam went in to get Cas. They had a whispered argument about it, but a round of rock, paper scissors settled it.  
   Castiel stared at Sam for a moment when he heard the news. His brow was furrowed, but he couldn’t think of any creature still alive that could bring Adam back, and he said as much.  
   “We’ll figure that out later. Right now, we need to know if it really is our brother. Would you be able to tell?”  
   Cas looked at him like he’d gone crazy. “An undead creature? Of _course_ I can tell the difference between an abomination and a human.”  
   Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Even without your wings?”  
   Cas stared down his nose, head tilted to one side. “I had my _wings_ clipped, yes. That doesn’t affect my _eyes_.”  
   Sam held up his hands. “I don’t know, I’m not an angel.”  
   Cas nodded once. “This is true, you’re not an angel. Lead the way.”  
   Sam left the Bunker with the angel in tow. They’d parked outside, instead of in the garage, just in case.  
   They needn’t have bothered.  
   “That is indeed your brother.”  
   “Does he have his soul?” Dean asked.  
   “To check would cause unbearable pain, you know that,” he cautioned.  
   “Maybe wait ‘til he gets to know us. Besides, it’s been pretty obvious in the past,” Sam pointed out. Dean side nodded.  
   They drove the Impala into the garage. Sam carried their still sleeping brother into one of the rooms and laid him on the bed. He debated whether to leave him in an unfamiliar place, alone, or sit in the chair and wait.  
   Remembering the nightmares he’d had when he got his memories back, he waited.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Stars

The boys stared up at the stars, the hood of the Impala still warm beneath their backs. Adam was curled up on the backseat, sound asleep.  
   “I see you got our gift.”  
   The voice sent both boys upright, staring at the Beings before them.  
 _“You_ did this? Why?”  
   “Not that we aren't grateful,” Sam added quickly. Amara didn't seem to hear him.  
   “Dean, Dean, Dean. A little gratitude would be nice.”  
   “And we are grateful,” Sam said.  
   “But there's always a catch,” Dean grumbled.  
   Chuck shifted where he stood. “This gift needs some… special handling. We did what we could, but… it may not hold forever. You need to be ready for that. We're hoping he'll gain a sense of family before then.” He knew he had the boys there. Family was everything to them.  
   “Why now?” Dean asked without bothering to acknowledge what was obvious, to him. Of _course_ they'd try to make Adam part of the family. It didn't need saying.  
   “Not that we need to explain ourselves,” Amara began, eyes dangerous. Sam thought if anyone but Dean had dared speak to either of Them that way, they'd have been dead on the spot.  
   “I'm showing Amara how angels are ah… put together. Hopefully, by studying what’s left of Michael, we can figure out how to make a batch of new, _improved_ angels. You’ve been made aware of the... power issues upstairs. Clearly an oversight on my part. This is a good learning experience for Amara, and a potential bonding experience for us, not to mention avoiding another apocalypse.  
   “As for your brother, we couldn't leave him in the Cage by himself. He didn't do anything to deserve that. So, ah, the hope is that you two can... “  
   “What, fix him? They're human.”  
   “Right, I know, but they've both been in Hell, and Sam's been in the Cage with Adam, so maybe they can help him... cope with the real world.”  
   Amara snorted, but held her tongue.  
   “What did you mean by ‘improving’ angels?” Sam asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but they needed to.  
   “Yeah, we had enough trouble handling the standard models,” Dean growled.  
   “You did well enough, I'd say,” Amara hurled back. “You ‘handled’ them to near extinction!”  
   “To be fair,” Sam temporized, “a lot of them killed each other, too.”  
   “Hence the need for improvements,” Chuck said. “We'll brainstorm, see where the design needs… tweaking. Maybe together, we can make a better breed of angel--Dean, I can see that thought forming, but don't. Don't go there.”  
   Dean looked faintly queasy. “More than happy to oblige.”  
   “So you think making more angels will bring the two of you together?” Sam asked.  
   Chuck looked at his sister. “We need something in common, I think. Something we Created together. We’ve spent enough time apart.” He looked back at the boys. “This was the perfect opportunity. A fresh start, for all of us. Even you two. You’ve got your brother back, and your mom. Your dad… Well, he made his bed, and he’s made peace with it. Best leave him with that peace, don’t you think?”  
   Neither of them was about to argue with God, and besides, their relationship with their father was turbulent. He was right, they needed a clean slate. They didn’t know how their mom would react to Adam, or when she would drop in, but they had a family. That was good, right?  
   Sam snapped awake, neck cramped from its awkward position against the wall. __Of course it was a dream. But was it really Chuck?  
   He reluctantly left Adam, to see if Dean had the same dream.  
   Dean was popping open a beer in the kitchen when he found him.  
   “Let me guess. Chuck and Amara, right?” Dean didn’t pussyfoot around the issue at hand.  
   “Yeah, and Adam might break worse than I did. He was in there a lot longer than I was.”  
   Dean chugged half the beer, burped under his breath, and grumbled “Awesome…”


End file.
